


Dry Bones (In My Heart)

by SouthernMoonshine



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Gift Fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Orochimaro took Izumo and Kotetsu with him instead of Anko, Orochimaru the pedophile, Pedophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernMoonshine/pseuds/SouthernMoonshine
Summary: Zaku's desperate for something to change, before it's too late. He doesn't trust Izumo, but there's more to Orochimaru's favorite toy than meets the eye. A revolution in the making: maybe they can make it out alive. There's no way they'll make it out in one piece.
Relationships: Abumi Zaku & Kamizuki Izumo, Kamizuki Izumo/Orochimaru
Kudos: 3





	Dry Bones (In My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or the songs listed and am not making profit off them. All belongs to their respective creators.
> 
> This was a birthday gift fic for a very dear friend, with whom I have played any number of RP scenarios with her delightful, abrasive, and charming Zaku against my Izumo. Here you are, snowbird! This both a tribute to her writing style and a challenge to my own skills, to see if I could imitate her style rather than my own.

_Through the eyes of men  
_ _It seems there’s so much we have lost  
_ _As we look down the road  
_ _Where all the prodigals have walked  
_ _One by one the Enemy has whispered lies  
_ _And led them off as slaves_

_But we know that You are God  
_ _Yours is the victory  
_ _We know that there’s more to come  
_ _That we may not yet see  
_ _So with the faith You’ve given us  
_ _We step into the valley unafraid_

_As we cry out  
__The dry bones come alive, come alive  
__We call out to dead hearts  
__“Come alive, come alive!”  
__Up out of the ashes  
__Let us see an army rise  
__We call out to dry bones  
_“ _Come alive!”  
_-[“Dry Bones (Come Alive)” by Lauren Daigle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7PUW1olxx8)

* * *

The mission had been a complete and total _fucking disaster._

Zaku hadn’t been sure if he’d wanted to limp back home to report. He knew exactly how bad it was going to be, dread sitting cold and hard at the bottom of his stomach. In the end he’d dragged himself back to the base because he didn’t really know if he had another choice.

Lying on the stone floor and clinging dizzily to consciousness, he was beginning to wish he did.

Orochimaru’s voice hazed in and out of focus, the poison and anger in it brutal as the blows he’d placed. The pause made Zaku struggle to lift his head, see through the darkness scudding over his vision, be prepared for the next blow.

Orochimaru was standing near, sneering, golden eyes sharp: but his hands were folded into his yukata sleeves. “I don’t have the time right now to waste on correcting _failures,_ ” he hissed, and cruelty lit his eyes. “I’ll let Izumo give you a few lessons.”

The man kneeling quietly on the floor beside Orochimaru’s vacated chair looked up at his name: mismatched eyes, jade-green and earth-brown, met Orochimaru’s for a single moment, then dropped. Izumo, who was in disgrace this week, half his face a mask of unhealed bruising. No time to waste on failures, when soon would be the Chuunin exams in Konoha, and the great triumph of Orochimaru.

Zaku swallowed blood and bile and tried to peel himself off the floor, blood ringing in his ears.

“Take him and go. I have things to do.” Impatience, a dangerous mood from a dangerous man, and Zaku tried to will his battered body to move faster.

Izumo was standing beside him by the time Zaku got to his knees: a single flick of the hand, the imperious gesture Orochimaru himself used, and Zaku staggered up to follow as told, panting through gritted teeth for the pain. His ribs and his left arm were definitely broken, and he felt as if he might be one giant bruise all over, especially after that beating. He followed Izumo down the halls, watching bare feet on stone, and wondered if he could piss Izumo off enough to find out if the rumors were true.

Whispers around the base said it was better to find your end at the hands of Orochimaru’s favorite toy than at the hands of the master. Orochimaru’s cruelty was well known. Izumo, they said, was quick. ~~Merciful was what they were careful not to say.~~

Down a narrow corridor and into a room. “Don’t bleed on the rug.” Zaku just barely managed to comprehend the command and change direction: he looked up and realized this must be Izumo’s private quarters. But around the rug and to a door in the back, to a much smaller room. There were two beds and a faded rug and Izumo stopped and turned around. Zaku swayed on his feet and looked up at the dark-haired man, standing statue still and poised in a patterned yukata, feet bare.

Everyone knew Izumo, the favorite toy...or pet, depending on who was talking. Out of bounds for everyone else: the last one who’d laid hands on him had been made an _example_ of: his bones still dangled outside the base, like a morbid wind chimes. Tool for jutsu, entertainment that might spare the rest of them from Orochimaru’s crueler moods, the quiet complacent thing that never looked anyone but the master in the eye and fell in and out of favor like they all did. Zaku had never actually spoken to him, and the contempt twisted against unease: everyone knew what Izumo _was_ , and if Izumo was going to teach him now, after this failed mission….

Maybe he shouldn’t have come back, if Orochimaru was going to….

Izumo’s hands snapped through signs and Zaku recoiled on instinct.

His balance wavered and Izumo’s hands closed on his upper arms, narrow fingers biting in like razor-wire. After a confused moment Zaku realized there was no further pain: in fact, everything hurt less, and he realized the wash of warmth was a healing jutsu. Not Orochimaru’s healing, abrupt and painful like the tail end of a lightning jutsu, but warm and steady and easing.

Now Izumo was the one who staggered, swaying back a step, pale-faced and panting for breath. Zaku tensed, and abruptly realized they were not alone.

He hadn’t thought about Kotetsu in years, not since he’d gotten old enough to “graduate” past basic reading and figuring: the man gathered the youngest and newest of Orochimaru’s recruits and taught them these things. Zaku had assumed Kotetsu had taught them in whispers and signs because he wasn’t supposed to be teaching them at all. Looking now at the scar that scored the man’s lips, dripped down his chin and flared across his throat, Zaku decided it was a miracle he could still talk. Kotetsu eyed them both, a whetstone in one hand and a ninjato in the other as he sat barefoot on one of the beds.

Izumo straightened, recovering, and there was fury in his eyes. “He’s gone _fucking_ mad!” he spat with sudden venom.

Zaku blinked, rubbing a hand over the ache of healed bone in his left arm. Kotetsu croaked out a hoarse question, voice a strained whisper. “Why?”

Not _who,_ but _why._

“He sent this one, _this one,_ on a _damned_ seduction mission!” Izumo snarled, jabbing a finger at Zaku, who flinched back, angry at the secret being spilled, frightened at what he was hearing: treason ~~blasphemy~~. “The _fucking_ mission to Ame and now that treaty is lost and Oishu is _fucking dead_ and how the hell are we going to get rice now? He’s gone _fucking crazy_ , he’s killing us _all_! Wasting a fucking _combat specialist_ , he threw him _away_! But he’s finally fucked up enough, _finally_.”

“Why?” Kotetsu hissed.

Izumo smiled, and there was a horrible sort of glee in his face, mixed with the hatred and anger. “He gave him _to me_.”

And now Kotetsu smiled, wide and wicked and with the same kind of awful delight in his face.

Izumo turned to look at Zaku, the smile fading away. “I’m not going to teach you what he wants me to. I will teach you some intel, you can use that, but I’m _not_ teaching you seduction.”

Kotetsu was still grinning, and his hands spidered through sign. ‘Teach you fight’

Zaku took a shuddery breath, leaning against the wall. He had wished for a different option, and here it was. Now he wasn’t sure he wanted it. “He’ll kill you,” he managed, because that was fact.

“Not if I fucking cut his heart out first,” Izumo growled back, chin up and shoulders squared, hands curled into fists: the look in his eye was steel and murder.

Oh.

Another breath, and Zaku rubbed at his arm. The ache was almost gone. “What am I gonna do?” he asked, and hated that his voice was so thin.

“Train. Listen. And when the time comes, help us kill the bastard.” Izumo nodded. “Or...or you can say you won’t train with me. And I can kill you or Orochimaru will.”

“ ‘Mo,” Kotetsu hissed.

Izumo stomped a foot. “I can’t...that’s all the options I can give him! I can’t sneak him out! Not after Sen!”

Sen. Zaku hissed through his teeth, eyeing the bruises anew. “You did that?” In disgrace, this week.

“I’ve been sneaking children out of every damn base for ten years now, and last week I picked the wrong damn kid.” Izumo touched his bruised cheek. “I can’t promise I can sneak you out, I can’t even promise I can find a way, he’s got me under guard whenever I get into the outer halls. So. That’s your options. Join us, or I kill you quick, or I tell Orochimaru and he fucks you up.” He grimaced over the name, like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Maybe it did.

Zaku found himself having to re-evaluate Izumo again: the sheer defiance needed to not only plot against the snake but also _steal_ from him….

Slowly, he nodded. He wasn’t certain this _wasn’t_ going to get him killed, but he was going to die anyway. And this….it might be better than what he had to look forward to anyway. A change, a different _choice_. Izumo smiled again, and this was gentler, quieter.

“Alright. We’ll train you, kiddo.” Izumo nodded. “But we’re going to lie about it. Orochimaru thinks I’m going to teach you seduction, so we’re going to fucking fake that, because I’m _not_ teaching a fuckin’ child and _you_ ain’t interested. So we fake it. And to start that, from now on, you bunk here with us. You can get your stuff, bring whatever you need, but you sleep here now.”

Zaku tensed, not reassured: he knew what to expect from the few adults around the base, and Izumo’s denials might only be for show. But he nodded, and pushed away from the wall, cautiously. Behind Izumo Kotetsu grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Zaku snorted despite himself, and both Izumo and Kotetsu beamed.

They were weird as _fuck,_ gods.

That conviction only grew: not an hour later, after he’d set his pack by one bed, Izumo ghosted up behind him, caught his chin, and kissed him on the cheek. Zaku wrenched away, swearing, and found Izumo backing away with raised hands. “Don’t scratch it, it’ll make it worse,” he said, and Zaku swore again when he realized his cheek was burning. Automatically he reached up and scrubbed at it: it immediately hurt worse, bad enough it made his eyes water.

“Hey, stop, it’ll quit in a minute, promise,” Izumo told him. He was wiping his lips off very carefully with a cloth, not touching anything else. Contact poison. “Just don’t rub it.”

Zaku grit his teeth. “What the fuck?”

“Told you. We’re gonna play that I’m teaching you. That’s what this is. Part of it.” Izumo folded the cloth delicately and put it away in his sleeve. “Now go get your other teammates. I want to see if they’ll be useful.”

Given how they’d distanced themselves after the last few missions, Zaku doubted it. He rubbed at his burning cheek again which only renewed the pain, found a raised welt, and dropped his hand, breath hissing between his teeth. He stalked for the door.

Dosu and Kin were in the corner of one of the bigger caverns where people gathered in their off time, if they weren’t too injured to make it there. Kin took one look and grinned, ugly and mean, and Dosu tipped his head a fraction. For a moment Zaku didn’t quite know what to say: he hadn’t thought he’d find them so easily.

“Izumo wants to see you,” he said at last.

Kin opened her mouth but Dosu stepped on her foot and she yelped, giving him a vicious glare. “Alright,” he said, evenly, and gestured for Kin to follow.

Zaku led the way back to Izumo’s set of rooms, alarmingly close to Orochimaru’s personal quarters. Izumo was waiting for them in the front room with its ornate rug and furniture, poised and perfect. He didn’t quite look up when they came in, and Zaku felt dismayed, almost: back to the meek mild creature that obeyed every whim. What was the truth? He stopped by the door, uncertain. Dosu glanced at him and came closer.

“You wanted to see us?” Neutral, reserved: that was Dosu, cleverer than either Kin or Zaku when it came to dealing with people.

Izumo nodded. “Orochimaru has given over Zaku’s training to me. Some of it will include tricks for close fighting, and intel tactics. I am aware that you three were trained as a combat unit, and I wanted to extend the offer of training to both of you as well. You may find it useful.”

Kin sneered. “I’m not learning to be a _whore._ ”

Zaku flushed red and pulled a kunai. Dosu elbowed Kin, and Izumo gestured for everyone to stand down, looking up at last. His eyes were hard, and his tone was a cold echo of Orochimaru’s slick poisonous tones.

“Don’t be so quick to turn down lessons, girlie, that’s stupid. All learning has use.” And that was a direct quote from the snake’s lips: but Kin only turned red and looked angry. “The offer stands. You may go.”

Dosu nodded, shoved Kin, and they left. Zaku did not stab either of them, aware of Izumo’s watchful stare. The door closed and Zaku threw the kunai into a fat decorative pillow. Feathers puffed into the air.

“She’s wrong,” Izumo said, and padded across the rug. He pulled the kunai out, and flicked it back at Zaku. He dodged and it thunked into the door frame: but it hadn’t been aimed to hit, he realized. “You’re _not_ a whore and you’re _not_ learning to be one. I’m teaching you how to lie a damn sight better than you do now, and Kotetsu will teach you to fight even better.” He started picking up the feathers, one by one. It would take a while.

Zaku wrenched the kunai out the wood, and hid it again. Kin had only said what everyone was thinking, word would spread like wildfire, the base thrived on gossip and lives were often lost over the trade of lies. He swore.

“They might talk but they can’t touch you. You’re one of mine now.” Izumo was still talking, like it mattered somehow. “You’ll see. It’ll be alright.”

Zaku doubted it.

* * *

The welt on his cheek - shaped exactly like a kiss - didn’t fade for three days. For three days, he was a pariah: no one spoke to him if they could help it, and he heard his name in hissed whispers in the halls and corners. People moved away if he entered a room, turned their backs to him. Only Izumo and Kotetsu talked to him freely and smiled cheerfully at him. He wasn’t sure why.

He’d sat up that first night, stayed awake in the dark clutching a kunai just in case Izumo had lied: but Izumo and Kotetsu shared one of the beds, sleeping back to back like soldiers. Kotetsu slept nearer the door with a hand on a ninjato hilt. Izumo slept restlessly, crying out in his sleep often, waking to roll over and lean against Kotetsu’s back.

Four days later, ninja who had never once spoken to Zaku now nodded at him as they passed, or flicked a peculiar handsign where no others could see: and in a ninja base raised on secrecy and rampant gossip, Zaku was surprised he didn’t recognize it. He was shocked when one of the Sound Four, the twins Sakon and Okon, passed the sign to him and smirked. And then Orochimaru’s current protege, a slender redhead from Waterfall, spoke kindly to him over breakfast.

Six days later, the bruising on Izumo’s face faded to yellow and green, Orochimaru summoned him and Zaku and Kotetsu slept in their respective beds. In the morning Izumo returned, healed and perfect again, save for the dark marks of fangs at his throat.

A week after he’d been turned over to Izumo, with his bruises and aches all gone, Zaku’s lessons began.

Izumo didn’t teach like Orochimaru, orders given then lessons thrown into the experience as it happened. He asked questions, carefully feeling out what Zaku knew as Zaku struggled to shape the answers for him. From there it progressed into lessons, mini-missions with detailed reports to Izumo, describing interactions and guessing motives among the other nin around the base. Coaching in genjutsu turned into drilling when Izumo figured out how little he knew, and Izumo was relentless as Orochimaru: no slacking, no shirking. Lessons in acting and learning to lie went slowly. Zaku was not good at faking it, only at going blank or angry.

Lessons with Kotetsu made it all worth it.

Again it was not like training with Orochimaru, who drove taijutsu lessons home with injuries half the time.

Kotetsu never hurt him on purpose, but there were plenty of bruises. Especially when they deemed Zaku relied too much on his jutsu and started sealing his chakra for lessons. Izumo was always there, prowling the sidelines or perched on the furniture pushed to the walls, calling out openings and corrections as Kotetsu drove Zaku through his paces as hard and as fast as he could, grinning like a maniac all the while.

They practised in the front room, all fancy furnishings pushed aside, or late at night in empty rooms deep under the base. Secret and out of sight.

Kotetsu could use almost any weapon at all, and learning to dodge it all gave Zaku some sore muscles in interesting places. But it was fun, it was _so much fun_ , and Zaku was _good_ at this, getting better and better as Kotetsu and Izumo taught him to close gaps he’d covered with his ninjutsu, then retaught him how to incorporate the wind attacks into his new footwork. Izumo traded out with Kotetsu after a while, and Zaku had never expected him to be an opponent on par with Kotetsu, just as fast and tricky but he fought _meaner_ , like he’d lived on the streets like Zaku had.

Despite all the training, Zaku found he was actually gaining weight: both Izumo and Kotetsu had a more reliable method of obtaining food than the usual scrounging and skimping that went on among the younger ones in the base, and Zaku was losing the hollows in his cheeks as well as gaining muscle.

* * *

He didn’t realize exactly how much he had learned until the day Kin started a fight with him in one of the gathering halls. He’d tried to ignore her (which never worked) and she’d got in close and swung a punch, because she knew Zaku wasn’t good with fighting up close.

After the first throb of alarm he realized that he knew the right blocks when she went for his wrists (she was fighting _mean_ ) and then he got the upper hand, and then he got her in a pin and _she couldn’t break it_. Heart pounding, Zaku realized _he_ knew how to get out of this pin - a favorite of Kotetsu’s - and it was relatively simple but Kin fought and snarled curses and Zaku held steady, suddenly unsure of what he wanted to do with her.

The silence that abruptly descended instead of jeers and cheers made the back of his neck prickle.

“I see he has learned some things,” Orochimaru purred, and Kin froze.

“He has certain….aptitude….” Izumo answered back, so softly it was barely above a whisper.

“Perhaps use that as an incentive, then.” Orochimaru moved past them and Zaku let Kin go. She shot to her feet but she was watching the snake go, not Zaku. He backed up a step and bumped into someone: before he could turn a hand gripped his shoulder and it was Izumo’s narrow thin fingers that rested lightly over Zaku’s shoulder.

“Kin. Zaku. Dosu. With me,” Izumo said, and his tone was still quiet but there was steel in it. Zaku started to look at him but Izumo squeezed his shoulder, fingers biting in like razor-wire.

Kin turned with a glare, but Dosu ghosted out of the muttering crowd and bumped into her. She snarled but followed when Dosu started walking.

Izumo let go and when Zaku turned, was walking away. The crowd parted before him, and there was muttering but nothing else. Izumo lead them all down to his rooms and shut the door behind them all. He looked at them all three, and nodded.

“Offer still stands.”

Dosu tipped his head, and Izumo didn’t flinch. “Alright,” Dosu said.

“Good,” said Kotetsu, hoarse but clear, and Dosu and Kin jumped, whirled to face him. Zaku had seen him coming and eyed the grin that stretched his scarred lips: the same fierce grin that Izumo now wore.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Izumo said.

The next night Kotetsu took Kin to drill her and set Dosu against Zaku. They went back and forth and came to a standstill. That was a first: even with Dosu’s scars making him slower, he’d usually been able to corner Zaku through all the mistakes and openings. Not this time, after being drilled relentlessly by someone to whom an injury was not acceptable collateral for a kill.

“Feet,” Izumo said, from behind, and Zaku startled: Dosu swept his feet out from under him and pinned him to the floor. Zaku struggled until Dosu leaned on the arm over his throat, then tapped out. Dosu let him up and Zaku rolled to a crouch, looking up to find Izumo.

The man was smiling a little, but was also holding the neck of his yukata closed high against his throat: there was blood dried in his hair. He’d been with Orochimaru, then, and started across the room. “You keep forgetting to mind your left foot in that defense sequence. Square up.”

He disappeared into the room beyond, probably to go wash up. When Zaku looked down he realized there were droplets of fresh blood on the floor. Dosu saw it too, and they both glanced after the man: Zaku hadn’t seen a single sign he might have been injured, and wondered if it was Izumo’s blood after all.

Kotetsu set Kin to a set of kata, and came over to drill them both. Zaku forgot about it.

Until later, when he learned in the wee hours of the morning how to set stitches in delicate layers of flayed flesh while Izumo hissed and panted and writhed as Kotetsu held him down. Zaku hated the smell of blood and panic and pain, fingers slick on the tiny needle and narrow thread, and wondered how Izumo had managed to move without betraying his back had been torn to ribbons.

The cruelties of Orochimaru knew no bounds, only the whim of the moment. The very next night he healed Izumo again, perfect and pristine without even a scar to show what horrors had been.

* * *

It was a more tenuous arrangement than Zaku had realized. As they walked down the hall one night, Izumo gently chiding him over forgetting the hand sign sequencing in a particular genjutsu, Izumo suddenly stopped dead, lifting his head. Zaku stopped as well, tension stringing him like a fine wire, looking up the corridor.

But the attack, as such, came instead from the man beside him. Izumo shoved him up against the wall. Zaku’s head bounced off the stone, unprepared, and he realized with dazed horror how much he had begun to _trust_ Izumo...measured in the burn of betrayal when Izumo pinned him in with both arms and kissed him full on the lips

Zaku shoved at him, bit him, and Izumo recoiled with a gasp.

Orochimaru chuckled, and Zaku froze, panic curling cold down his spine as Izumo stepped backward, turning to face their master. “Either you’re not having much luck with teaching him, or you like it rougher than I’d thought, Izumo.” Golden eyes glittered as they fixed on Zaku, and he shrank against the wall.

Izumo licked blood off his bitten lip: a drop rolled down to his chin. “I have made...some progress. It does take time, Orochimaru-sama, to polish a good jewel.”

Orochumari chuckled, and stepped closer, reaching out to touch Izumo’s face. This close, Zaku saw it: saw the way something in Izumo’s eyes shuttered flat and dead the moment the snake touched him, right before Orochimaru bent to kiss him, tongue licking up that bright droplet of blood, and Zaku looked away, horrified, wondering if he could slip away unnoticed.

“Hurry up, then, or he’ll be culled with the rest of the failures. I look forward to seeing you and your sweet lover in my bed,” Orochimaru purred, leaning back, his smile wicked and _wanting_ , and Zaku felt as if he’d been touched with dirty hands, skin crawling in revulsion. _Never_. Oh gods _never_.

“Of course,” Izumo said, soft and submissive, looking down at the floor.

Orochimaru laughed again, and walked away down the hall, utterly silent.

Zaku leaned against the wall and stared at Izumo, who did not move for several long moments. He didn’t know if he trusted Izumo anymore.

Izumo looked up at him at last, and the burning cold of his eyes pinned Zaku in place better than any kunai: _hate_ , bitter and ugly and unreasoning, and Izumo hissed low and quiet: “I will _kill_ _him_.”

A promise, a prophecy, and Zaku swallowed with a mouth gone dry.

“Come on. We’ve got to teach you to be a better liar,” Izumo told him, and turned away.

Zaku realized the bite on his lip was healed.

Oh.

After a moment, he followed Izumo.

It was a better choice than Orochimaru. _It was_.

* * *

The Chuunin exams arrived, and Zaku had somehow expected that he’d either be forgotten or shuffled into the ranks of those who were merely following along, foot soldiers for the coup. He was in disgrace, pawned off to be the toy of the toy.

He had not expected to be standing front and center as the chosen “Genin team,” with Dosu and Kin and Orochimaru himself masquerading as their teacher. Izumo came along, of course, the pet favorite, forever Orochimaru’s aide in the working of jutsu, a conduit for chakra linkings. Kotetsu did not come, and as they walked to Konoha, Zaku wondered how that changed their plans that had been made. Kotetsu had been part of those, a large part. He didn’t know.

The trip was a true test of Zaku’s fragile trust in Izumo….for of course, Izumo was teaching him. Orochimaru leered and watched, that first night, when Zaku balked at realizing he was expected to share Izumo’s bedroll. Izumo looked up at met his eyes, and Zaku clenched his clammy hands into fists...and went. Izumo bent near, his breath feathering warm over Zaku’s cheek, and breathed the words so soft Zaku could have almost imagined them instead of heard them: “Trust me.”

Zaku didn’t know if he did.

But he went, and let Izumo draw him under the covers, gone wire-tense in the dark.

Oh, what everyone else thought….

Izumo tucked up against his back, curled around him, and Zaku closed his eyes and clutched a kunai, hoping, hoping.

And Izumo did not lay an arm over him, but laid his head against Zaku’s and whispered, in tiny little puffs, of the coming plans: more than the vague sketch he’d shared with them in the base, because the less they knew, the less there was for them to accidentally let slip But now, now wasn’t the time for going blindly, was it? Not when they were on the move now, not when every step brought them closer to Konoha….to the coup.

To their attempt on Orochimaru’s life.

It was still an utterly horrifying thought, that they were going to try to do this, that they _dared_ , that they were planning this with Orochimaru sleeping mere yards away, and Zaku kept being seized with moments of panicking terror through the march. Dosu and Kin kept him walking, but he could see the same unease in their eyes at times. ~~Blasphemy.~~ It was _insane_.

But the only other choice they had….

Izumo didn’t ever appear to talk to anyone else on the march, but somehow, people knew what their roles were. Zaku could see the sense of purpose taking shape now, from the actual lessons he’d learned from Izumo, and wondered why Orochimaru didn’t see it. Wondered how they kept it at all hidden, because there were some who were not in on the secret. There were some who could not be trusted, and Izumo breathed the names into his ear at night, former allies now become enemies.

That was shinobi life, though, wasn’t it? That was the way of it in Otogakure. You didn’t have allies, you had stepping stones. Others to prove you were better than, to keep the snake’s favour. Failures were dead, and Zaku was one step above being a failure now, in Orochimaru’s eyes.

He wondered, given that fact, if Orochimaru intended his little “Genin” team to succeed at all.

They would probably do better than he expected, because Izumo and Kotetsu were relentless trainers.

He wondered what would happen then.

Walking so much was bad for him: he had far too much time to think, and it was giving him a headache. How did Izumo do all that strategizing and analyzing and not live with a permanent headache? Huh. Maybe he did.

Zaku asked, later, and Izumo just snorted at him.

Maybe not, then.

* * *

Zaku could barely concentrate on the Chuunin exams: it all felt completely useless, unimportant when there was a much, much bigger problem to face, one standing at their backs with a disguised face and a pleased smile. Orochimaru invited into Konoha, and playing at harmless, waiting to launch his attack at the perfect moment. So many other people, so many other players, and Zaku felt both overwhelmed and frustratingly impatient.

Fortunately, Izumo didn’t task him to observe. Izumo stayed silent, the shadow at Orochimaru’s side, and he was the one who watched, single dark eye clear and wary. He was the one who whispered strategy to Dosu, Kin, and Zaku at night, on the teams they would face, and how Izumo knew even half of this, Zaku couldn’t begin to guess.

Izumo told them not to trust Kabuto.

As they prepared to enter the ominous-sounding Forest of Death, the loud purple-haired woman proctoring flicked the secret handsign at them.

Oh.

She was on their side.

They had orders from Orochimaru to kill Uchiha Sasuke, but Izumo had told them not to: to make a strike then fall back. And like all good plans, it went immediately to shit when two whole teams ganged up on them: while they were good at combat, Orochimaru’s training had been nonexistent when it came to strategic retreats. The murder attempt was a fool’s errand anyway, because Orochimaru had already laid a curse seal on Uchiha Sasuke, and Zaku figured he was really lucky to get out of that fight with only one dislocated arm.

Izumo healed him when they got out of the forest, and fussed at him softly.

Orochimaru hadn’t bothered to even look them over, expecting them to move along immediately to the next phase with all the rest, battered and bruised, amused by it all.

Zaku threw his match. He threw it hard, and he didn’t _want_ to, but Izumo had been very, very clear. Acting as if his arm was still injured, as if he depended far too much on his jutsu, Zaku closed the distance and woke up three hours later with his head still ringing from being knocked out. He woke to Izumo’s hands cupping his head, and the narrowed look of pain and concentration that was Izumo performing a jutsu far beyond his means, healing Zaku.

Maybe they were all meant to die, Zaku realized, because Orochimaru never once turned around.

* * *

A month between that slow wakening and the next stage of the exams, and the intrigue only thickened. Sand was supposedly allied with Sound, and Orochimaru met with their leaders, but Izumo hissed that the snake was only playing games. Konoha shinobi died, and Kabuto moved undetected through their ranks. This was Izumo’s little observation games on a scale so massive Zaku could barely begin to wrap his head around it. Trying only made him feel desperate, panicky, even as Izumo resumed his place as their teacher, whispering to the three of them late at night, lessons in politics and things to look for, and everywhere Zaku looked, there was danger.

Everywhere, and especially from inside their own ranks.

Zaku woke to Izumo’s hand over his mouth, and stayed silent even when Izumo pinched him pulling him out of bed, because Izumo’s face was white in the moonlight as he hurried Zaku out the window.

The purple-haired Konoha nin from the exams was waiting, with Dosu near her. Kin was being pulled out her window farther down by…

...by Kotetsu, scarred throat and all, and Zaku had no idea how the man had gotten here. But he didn’t ask questions, only fell in behind Kotetsu as he started herding them across the rooftops.

By the time Zaku thought to look back, Izumo was no longer at the window.

It was Kotetsu who told them, hands spidering through sign in the thin grey dawn’s light, that Orochimaru was working a forbidden jutsu that needed sacrifices...and Izumo had spared them.

Zaku found himself thinking about the rumors that had circulated the base about Izumo over the years, the one word that no-one had dared speak: that he was merciful.

Oh.

So this, then, was mercy.

He wondered what it had cost Izumo, and tried so hard not to think that he might be substituted as a sacrifice in a forbidden jutsu. That couldn’t happen. It couldn’t. They needed him...for the plan. For their revenge. Izumo couldn’t die like that, throat slit like an animal’s.

Kotetsu keyed them in on the new plan: on the remainder of Otogakure’s base, everyone left behind, who had turned and allied with Konoha. The coup had begun there, loyalists slain and fresh new shinobi bloodied: the youngest, the wounded, those abandoned and discarded, and the base behind them set afire. It was a promise that the end of Orochimaru’s reign of fear was near, and Zaku tried to focus on that, not the insistent fear that said he would never see Izumo’s face again, that he should have looked back.

With the dawn came the new phase of the Chuunin exams...and Orochimaru’s plan to crush Konoha. Kotetsu brought in the ranked Sound nin, some barely Genin, all with their headbands tied tightly. They all received armbands, red, similar to the red circles the Konoha nin bore as part of their uniform, and the purple haired kunoichi - Anko, that was her name, Anko of the curse seal, with a burning hatred for Orochimaru in her eyes - arrayed them with Konoha ninja, all of them preparing for the battle to come. Zaku hung close with Kotetsu, as did Dosu and Kin. They were to meet with Izumo, and aided by Sakon and Ukon, take down the barrier Orochimaru intended to erect.

If Izumo was still alive.

The possibility remained.

Zaku hadn’t known relief could make him shake, sudden convulsive trembles, on seeing Izumo’s dark head bowed in the seats, among the line of disguised Sound ninja. He knew it now, and his resolve firmed. He would fight, and he would prove himself worthy of the demand placed on him.

He would not let either of them down, not Kotetsu and not Izumo.

And when the coup began, it was chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

Zaku focused on Kotetsu’s back, on the giant kunai the man fought with, and followed him through the screaming din. The scent of blood and death, the zing of chakra and the thunder of jutsu, and Kotetsu slid under a set of shuriken and Dosu deflected a rain of senbon and Zaku’s heart was in his throat even as the inside of his head went eerily calm. A fight, a fight at last, and this? This he could do.

Izumo and his troupe of turncoats were already taking down as many of their former allies as they could: they all had, somehow, the same red armbands. How Izumo had orchestrated that, Zaku didn’t have the faintest guess. It was the rise of an army, their attack coordinated and sure. Kotetsu fell in right beside Izumo, when they reached him, and Zaku plunged into the fight. He’d held back through the entirety of this stupid farce of a Chuunin exam, and now, now he was going to show his true potential.

The barrier went up, and Izumo began moving them through the crush, shouting loudly enough to make up for all the years, all those moments of poisoned silence. Kotetsu’s giant blades spun and danced, and when they reached Sakon and Ukon, Anko had found them. The cursed twins smirked, and let their corner drop: Zaku immediately launched a wind attack on Tayuya, who came flying at him shrieking about betrayal. As the barrier went down, ANBU swarmed in, but that was all the time Zaku had for noticing anything other than the fight.

He and Dosu and Kin were good, but Tayuya had a curse seal, and all they could really do was stall her. In the end, she was taken out by one of the masked Konoha ANBU, leaving the exhausted Chuunin gasping for breath and trying to figure out if they were close enough to bleeding to death to keep going.

Throat burning, one arm broken and screaming pain at him, Zaku looked around and realized things were getting quieter. There was no immediate fighting going on nearby. He was bleeding and his breathing was alarmingly wheezy from a hit to the throat but he was still standing. He could still fight. But what had become of Orochimaru? Was he dead?

When Zaku scrambled up onto the rooftop where Orochimaru and the Sandaime had been fighting, he didn’t actually figure out the answer to his question.

Because he found Izumo and Kotetsu, almost immediately.

Izumo was leaning over Kotetsu with his hands glowing green, both hands curved to Kotetsu’s throat, and pleading with him in a low thin voice, his face sheeted with blood from a gash over his eye. “C’mon, ‘Tetsu, just hang on, just keep breathing, they’ll get the medics out here in a minute, don’t you die on me, okay? Don’t you do that to me, okay?”

Zaku moved closer: and as he’d feared, he could see blood, bubbling under Izumo’s hands, bubbling with every breath Kotetsu took.

* * *

“Oh, it’s the little twitchy one. Hi Zaku.” Anko dropped in to walk beside him.

Zaku twitched away from her. He was having a hard time trusting her: she was loud, annoying, overwhelming. But Izumo trusted her. He would try. “Hi,” he managed, low and tight, and she laughed a little.

But to his relief, she didn’t say anything else, merely walked beside him as he wove through the halls of the hospital. He hated it, hated the way this place smelled: far too much like Orochimaru’s old labs. But Izumo was still here, because apparently when you were only Chuunin and tried to take on a Sannin, you ended up with crushed bones in very important places. Like your leg. Izumo had cheerfully assured him the medics said he would walk again, but healing was taking time.

“Hey, Izumo, you’ve got visitors!” Anko cheered as they crossed the threshold.

Izumo looked up, and grinned with sleepy drugged pleasure. “Zaku, Anko. Good to see you, baby. You didn’t have to come today.”

“I know.” Zaku came closer, and managed a little smile when Kotetsu looked up from his book of crossword puzzles and waved. There was a new scar on Kotetsu’s throat, from ear to ear: what little voice he’d once had was gone entirely.

“So if you two are not going to be the Kage of Otogakure, you sure you trust that redhead twig to do it?” Anko wanted to know, as she grabbed a chair and flopped into it. “I mean, sending off the rest of those brats without either of you former Konoha nin doesn’t exactly inspire the council with confidence.”

“Tsume will do fine. He’s from Takigakure, originally, but he’s a good kid,” Izumo answered, and shuffled over, patting the bed. Zaku, arm still in a sling, came to sit gingerly on the edge, all the better to not jostle Izumo. “I heard Suna has decided Orochimaru’s betrayal was too much?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re working out a treaty with Konoha now,” Anko answered, and flapped a hand. “We’ll see how it goes. Hey, hey, when your Oto kids heal up, you should let me spar with them.”

Izumo snorted. “Hey, they’re all Chuunin now. They’re graduated. That’s their choice. Right, Zaku?”

Zaku found he couldn’t help the little smile. “Yeah. I think that’d be fun.” Scary, Anko was pretty strong, but definitely fun.

Izumo’s grin was wide and happy, full of joy, as was Kotetsu’s: bright, bright like sunlight, and Zaku felt his own smile grow, answering joy in his heart.

Oh, now he had so many choices, and things were _better._

They would be alright.

* * *

_Lately I’ve been reeling  
_ _Watching the nightly news  
_ _Can’t seem to find the rhythm  
_ _Just wanna sing the blues  
_ _Seems like a song that never stops  
_ _Feels like it’s never gonna…_

_Gotta get that fire, fire back in my bones  
_ _Before my heart, heart turns into stone  
_ _So won’t somebody please pass the megaphone  
_ _I’ll shout it on the count of three…  
_ _One, two, three!_

_Oh, hear my prayer tonight  
_ _I’m singing to the sky  
_ _Give me strength to raise my voice  
_ _Let me testify  
_ _Oh, hear my prayer tonight  
_ _‘Cuz this is do or die  
_ _The time has come to make a choice  
_ _And I choose...joy!_

_I need that joy, joy, joy down in my heart_  
_Down in my heart to stay_  
[-“joy.” by for KING & COUNTRY](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lA7n7TwPDmw)


End file.
